


Trial and Error

by karasunovolleygays



Series: Valentine's Kisses 2021 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys are not in fact completely dumb, M/M, Post-Timeskip, friends to ???, just sometimes, sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays
Summary: Kunimi enjoyed playing alongside Kageyama after almost a decade, but the real changes came after they were left alone on a frigid beach.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Kunimi Akira
Series: Valentine's Kisses 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087100
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Trial and Error

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neonstardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonstardust/gifts).



> Kiss prompt: speaking normally, then after the kiss their voice is hoarse

Kunimi lay sprawled out on the sand, arms flung wide after the most ball-busting bout of activity he’d had since high school volleyball ended for him. He didn’t know how Kageyama and Kindaichi did this sort of thing almost every day, and judging by the amount of sweat soaking through his underclothes, he didn’t want to know.

But he wouldn’t trade a single drop of that well-earned perspiration. It wasn’t demanded or coerced, it was given freely. The last time he had shed sweat for Kageyama Tobio, it had been a disaster for everyone concerned. 

Neither of them were the same anymore. Kindaichi was better at understanding people who didn’t communicate well, Kageyama was better at learning how to interact with individuals for the best results, and Kunimi was just happy he didn’t have to be the buffer between them.

Were they friends? Even though they had only interacted as a group a few times since high school ended, Kunimi supposed they were. Their little bout of beach volleyball was intense but littered with laughs and smiles. Kindaichi was extremely pleased to eke out a few perfect receives on Kageyama’s wicked world-class serve, Kageyama was happy to see the two of them hit his sets so well, and Kunimi was just happy not to lose a limb.

The day was over, though. The sun had long since started to dip behind the horizon, and Kindaichi had to leave for one of his night classes. Only Kunimi and Kageyama remained on the cold beach, which was virtually abandoned in early March for reasons a shivering Kunimi could relate to.

“You’re cold,” Kageyama said. 

Kunimi chuckled and sat up. “You could say that. Sweat tends to do that in the ass-end of winter months.”

He blinked in surprise when Kageyama’s jacket draped over his shoulders. “Aren’t you cold?”

Kageyama, clad in sweats, shrugged. “Not really. I run every day in the cold. I’m used to it.”

“Yeah, that makes one of us.” Kunimi gratefully tucked the jacket tighter around his torso, and slowly, the chill permeating his flesh began to subside. “Thanks.”

Nodding, Kageyama didn’t look over at Kunimi. Instead, he stared out across the water, which glittered with the rays of the sun setting behind them. 

It took about ten years of trial and error, but Kunimi finally recognized the expression that creased Kageyama’s features. He was thinking about something he didn’t understand, but he wanted to. That look was reserved for what he wanted for lunch, instead of things like math or science he didn’t care about.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Kunimi rested his chin on his knees, waiting for Kageyama to decline. If anyone was piss poor at talking about his feelings, it was his former teammate and rival. 

Kunimi certainly did not expect an answer, let alone the one he received.

“Do you remember in third year, when we were both vice captains?”

Blinking, Kunimi replied, “Uh, yeah. Why?”

Kageyama’s finger dragged through the sand, carving out the crude lines of a volleyball. He didn’t tear his gaze away from it as he said, “I always wanted to ask if you and Kindaichi were together. You seemed to fit together perfectly.”

It required less than one hand to count the number of times Kunimi recalled Kageyama expressing any interest whatsoever in his personal life. All their interactions were governed by either volleyball or school work. As far as he recalled, Kageyama had never dated anyone, let alone cared about who anyone else was dating.

He had an answer, but it only raised more questions. “If you’re asking, yeah, we were a thing at the time.”

“But not anymore?”

“We broke it off a while after graduation because we never got to see each other. It wasn’t fair to hang on to something like that when neither of us could commit to it.” Kunimi closed his eyes and sighed heavily while the recollection of that painful conversation rushed back into his brain. That happened four years prior and still hurt to think about.

“Oh.” Kageyama’s shoulders slumped, his hand falling slack on the sand. “You still get along though, right?”

Kunimi hummed an affirmative. “We were friends for a long time before that. No reason why we couldn’t hang onto that.” He gazed at Kageyama intently. “Not that I mind talking about this, but is there any particular reason why you’re asking?”

“Just, uh, checking.” Kageyama’s eyes flitted over to Kunimi before darting back toward the ground in front of him. “I wasn’t sure if you liked, uh, boys or not.”

After high school ended, Kunimi wouldn’t have considered himself in the closet. He didn’t advertise that he was into people of any gender, but without the social pressure of high school, he had no reason to deny it, either. He might have obfuscated or implied, but he had a feeling Kageyama wouldn’t understand him any better than he had in middle school. “Yes, I’ve always liked boys, girls, and everyone in between.”

Finally, Kageyama looked at him without retreating. “You were the first person I ever had a crush on. I was too afraid to tell you, but I want to do that now.”

Kunimi’s jaw sagged open, and he blinked to see if Kageyama’s earnest expression would melt away. It didn’t.

“I can safely say I never had any idea,” Kunimi admitted, still unsure how to categorize this change in Kageyama’s relationship with him. Did they even have a relationship? Did they  _ ever  _ have one? Kunimi said the only thing he could think of: “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to.” Kageyama reverted back to fiddling with the sand, and his shoulders drooped with defeat more than Kunimi had ever seen. “I didn’t want to regret not saying something again.”

A confession was difficult for the average person, but Kunimi could only imagine how much it cost someone like Kageyama — intense, earnest, and the social skills of a barbed wire fence. One thing he was certain of, however, is that he respected the guts it took to say. “Thank you for telling me.”

Kageyama stiffened. “I should’ve told you before you agreed to come, but I just wanted to have one good memory with you.” His fingers clawed into the sand. “But you’re not interested.”

Kunimi’s breath bottled in his throat. If he understood anything, it was wanting to dwell on better times. And it  _ had  _ been a good time. Despite his relative discomfort with the effort level and the weather, despite the awkward declaration of affection, Kunimi would certainly remember this day with fondness.

Whether it would go down in their history as something else entirely, though, Kunimi wasn’t certain. As with all things Kageyama, he settled on cutting to the chase. “I don’t know. Are you offering?”

“I —” Kageyama’s face burned red, and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his face. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

At the sight of a tall, beefy pro athlete hiding his blush, Kunimi couldn’t muffle a snort. Nor could he stop its gradual metamorphosis into a wheezing laugh. Slowly but surely, Kageyama’s head poked back out of his sweats and a soft, lopsided smile grew. Not that serial killer thing he did when forced into smiling; a genuine thing born out of warmth and happiness.

It was beautiful.

Kunimi nudged closer until he could cup Kageyama’s strong jaw in his hand. “Do you want to find out?”

“Wha —” Kageyama’s confusion was interrupted by a soft, lazy kiss.

As a rule, Kunimi didn’t go around kissing people he wasn’t dating, but Kageyama wasn’t just anyone. This strong, determined, bitch-faced man sitting next to him had a fragile heart. He didn’t know what he wanted out of his confession to Kunimi, and Kunimi didn’t know, either. 

Some things, he reckoned, just had to be gleaned from trial and error.

When Kunimi broke off the kiss, his whole face was tingling and his heart seemed to beat a little bit louder than before. That was nothing compared to the way Kageyama’s entire being transformed. Heavy-lidded blue eyes were glued to Kunimi, his lips were wet and flushed, his breath was shallow and ragged like he had just run ten kilometers.

“Do you know how to answer now?” Kunimi murmured.

Kageyama’s voice cracked as he replied, “Can I buy you dinner?”

Kunimi winked. “As long as it’s indoors, I’m all yours.”

Vaulting to his feet, Kageyama held out a hand to Kunimi, who accepted it readily on behalf of his weary limbs. When Kageyama yelped at their arms linking together, Kunimi could barely bite back a laugh. 

Was Kageyama used to this kind of close contact? Probably not, but Kunimi found himself eager to find out what other little slivers of feeling he could wangle out of this reborn Kageyama Tobio.

  
  



End file.
